


Pegging Tsuki

by Blueismybusiness



Series: Self-Indulgent Smut Series Starring Tsukki [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Homophobia, Anal Fingering, Discussion of pegging, F/M, Gratuitous use of italics, M/M, Masturbation, Pegging, Totally self-induglent, Which was the whole point of this endeavor, gratuitous use of elipses, the death of hetero male pride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-08-22 04:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueismybusiness/pseuds/Blueismybusiness
Summary: It's in the title.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just...really need to write this

He thought you were joking at first, the way you so casually threw it into conversation like you were talking about the latest stats of his favorite volleyball player. It’s weird because when he thinks back to the moment those words left your lovely lips, he can’t remember the conversation that led up to it, but he does remember the statement had been so smooth he’d almost missed it. As it was, when it sunk in, he choked on the tea he’d been sipping.

Twenty-four hours later and he still feels those words echoing in the air around him like he’s the protagonist in a campy horror film.

**_I want to fuck you._ **

What did that even  _ mean _ ?

Seriously. Because he hasn’t had the guts to ask you yet, and you promptly dropped the subject when he nearly asphyxiated on herbal tea. 

Yet, he can’t stop thinking about it. Like, at all. And when you’re in the same room he feels those words licking over his skin, teasing his curiosity like a cat with a dangling thread of string. Was the statement satirical? Were you being literal? Holy shit, were you being serious?! Is this a feminist thing? He doesn’t know, and the lack of clarity is killing him, but at the same time a part of him is a little scared, and that part of him seals his lips together with glue made of machismo.

From the kitchen where he stands at the counter doing nothing because he’s too distracted to do anything, he leans back to observe you in the living room. You’re still sitting on the couch where you’ve been for the last hour, watching you’re obnoxious Netflix dramas, talking to yourself, and generally doing you. Today he needs you to focus on him because that phrase hangs around him like a Halloween ghost whispering in his ear, and what he  _ wants _ is for you to explain yourself without his having to ask. You know, because that would make him appear curious. Which he isn’t. He just needs to understand so he can put his questions to rest—tuck them in and say goodnight—and that isn’t the same as being interested.

Kei swiftly stands back up when you shift on the couch, not wanting to be caught staring. He drums his fingers on the countertop until the sound of your footsteps brings you closer to the kitchen and he actually jumps like he’d been caught doing something illegal. He turns one way in the small space of your kitchen, then turns another, for some reason feeling like he’s running out of time. Just as you walk into the kitchen he lunges at the fridge, throwing open the door, only to stare inside it, because he had no  _ real  _ reason for searching its contents. Milk? Check. Eggs? Check. Cheese? Double check. Backbone? That’s a negative, ma’am. There is none of that to be seen anywhere in the vicinity…

“What are you doing?”

Kei startles like he’s just been slapped on the ass, and barely escapes a head injury. He can’t remember the last time he’d been so goddamn jumpy. He glances at you, praying the cold air of the fridge will chase the growing blush from his cheeks.

“Nothing,” he answers and immediately regrets it because he’s standing in front of the open fridge, so he should do something or close the fucking door before the food spoils. “What are  _ you _ doing?”

“Uh huh,” you answer, eyeing him with suspicion. “Well, if you’re doing nothing, mind moving so I can get to the juice?”

Tsukishima  gazes at you for a second, trying his damndest not to show any sign of weakness, then stares back into the cold recesses and sighs. “Nothing here I want anyway,” he says, straining to sound bored to cover up his odd behavior. He moves aside, leaning on the opposite counter and pulls his phone from his pocket, pretending to be interested in it as you slip by him in the narrow space in order to refill the glass you’d brought with you from the living room.

As you sip your juice the hair on his arms stands on end because he can feel your eyes watching him, and he wills his body to behave under your scrutiny. You sigh when you have your fill, setting the glass down on the countertop with a heavy clunk that makes Kei think of a judge’s gavel, and he barely restrains himself from flinching.

“What’s up with you?”

He tenses up, his mouth going dry, and he swallows. Sometimes he hates how transparent he is with you.

“What do you mean?” He asks, proud to say his voice remains steady.

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean’? You’re acting weird.”

“Am I?”

He glances up at you over the rim of his glasses when you snort and shift your feet. You have an eyebrow raised, your expression clearly saying how much of a shit he’s being.

Fuck it.

“What did you mean when you said that last night?” He feels pretty proud that he rose above his pride to actually ask. He sets his phone down in order to stare down at you with what he hopes is that look that makes you squirm when you’ve been caught not being totally honest. Instead, you return his stare with one that says you expect him to clarify, though he  _ knows  _ you know what he’s asking.

Another few seconds pass as he engages you in that silent argument of  _ I know you know I know _ , and in the end he huffs with indignation when you finally give your head that frustrated little shake and your eyes widen, the irritability shining in them asking  _ well? _

Goddammit.

“Oh come on, [Name], don't act like you don’t know,” he snaps, not wanting to play this game of Who’s Gonna Break First. It’s not as fun outside of the bedroom.

“No I  _ don’t _ know-“ you start, but then you’re narrowing your eyes at him and drumming your manicured hand on the countertop. “Is this about when I told you I wanna fuck you?”

And great, he can  _ feel  _ the blush skipping up his neck and over his face like the universe has taken physical form and is merrily playing hopscotch across his skin while mocking him. He can’t even  _ look  _ at you, those words jumping out of your mouth make him feel so  _ weird _ . And if that isn’t bad enough, the repressed giggles that you’re holding back make him want to crawl inside the garbage disposal and turn the fucking thing on.

“Geez, Tsuki, it was a random thought. If I had known you were gonna be so awkward about it I’d have kept it to myself.” 

He side-eyes you, not hating you but bubbling with a  _ lot  _ of dislike in the moment. Your shoulders are trembling and you’re biting the inside of your cheek as you strain not to laugh at him. He can tell because you’re not as good at hiding your feelings as he is (or was at one point in his life), and it pisses him off because you started this shit. Why are you laughing at him?!

“Whatever,” he grunts, pushing past you to close himself in the bedroom and  _ not  _ pout.

The joy you feel in his embarrassment must be too strong for you to withhold because you’re witchy cackle follows him down the hall, and he slams the door to the bedroom once he’s inside. You follow not far behind, stopping outside the closed door, which he’s grateful for since he throws himself onto his stomach onto the bed so he can muffle his shame.

“Come on, babe, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” makes it’s way through the cheap wood, and he knows you’re trying to...placate him, but the effort is wasted since you’ve ruined everything by being an asshole.

“Go away,” he calls, turning his head out of the pillow and breathing in the cool air instead of recycled oxygen, “I think we should see other people…” You open the door, rolling your eyes at his dramatic behavior and stalk over to flop yourself over his back like a dead animal. “...I can’t be with someone who’s so disrespectful of my feelings.”

“Oh shut up, you douche. It’s not like you never make fun of me when I’m being dumb.”

“Yeah, but you’re always dumb.”

He should have known you’d retaliate with your best offensive move where he’s weakest and dig your hobbit fingers into his ribs. He screams, like actually  _ screams _ , rolling over as quickly as possible to stop the attack. You roll with him, flipping yourself expertly so that your nestled between his legs, your breasts pressing into his abdomen.

Between his legs…

NOPE.

“That’s what you get for being an ass,” you say digging your chin into his breastbone. He groans and tries to shove you off, but you playfully glare at him before opening your mouth and clamping one of his nipples through his t-shirt between your teeth.

“OW!” He shouts, unable to help but laugh. “Stop, fuck!”

“And that’s what you get for mocking me. So I like talking about my feelings, not all of us are comfortable with being constantly constipated.” 

Tsukishima glares at the smirk that settles on your face. “No biting,” he replies, “And I’m not constipated. I’ll have you know I took a sh-“ 

You cover his mouth with a hand before he can finish his sentence. “Don’t be disgusting,” you say, rolling exasperated eyes.

He’s still rubbing his injured chest, your eyes falling on the movement. “Did I hurt your titty, baby?” You ask unapologetically. Why is it that when you love someone who’s being a shithead, instead of wanting to punch them in righteous indignation, you’d rather fuck the smug out of them?

Maybe that’s just him.

“Want me to kiss it all better?” You gaze up at him with wiggly eyebrows, one corner of your mouth curling in a smirk. And fuck you, cause now he’s horny.

“I can think of something else for you to kiss,” he answers, channeling his inner Kuroo. He would be humiliated if anyone ever discovered that he turns into a giant cheese ball around you, but despite the inward flinching that occurs, when you smile his embarrassment is worth it.

“La~me!” You sing-song, chuckling as you heft yourself onto all fours to drag yourself further up to steal a kiss. He should be mad at you, the conversation he is trying to have while desperately avoiding it has veered off course, but he’s always found it hard to think when you’re tongue is swirling inside his mouth.

He digs his fingers into your silky hair at the back of your head, deepening the kiss as your hands travel a firm path over his stomach and chest, one hand roughly dragging over his sore nipple. It makes him groan, the pain also so good and making his half-hard cock swell. One of your hands backtracks, sliding further down until your cupping him in your small hand with a gentle squeeze. 

No matter how many times this happens, the anticipation of what’s to come never lessens. Your hands on his body, your lips pressing into his like you’ll die without it, the soft sounds of pleasure that ride the breaths between you; all of it lights him up like the fireworks during festivals, burning bright and hot.

“I  _ could  _ kiss this,” you mumble into his mouth, giving him another squeeze, “But I’d rather fuck this,” you finish, slipping your hand down until it’s snug between his ass and the bed and he can feel the dull pressure of your thumb tickling the seam of his jeans where his asshole is.

And there goes the mood.

He sighs, his head falling back against the pillow, frustrated now that his growing erection is growing soft. He grips your wrist without even looking at you, pulling your hand away.

You sit back on your heels, your eyes burning a hole through him. “Really, Kei? You’re not at all curious?”

He finally looks at you, not sure if your joking. The look he’s getting from you suggests you find this thought unbelievable. 

He lifts himself up onto his elbows. “What makes you think I’d be even mildly curious about anal sex?”

“Well, considering how often you’ve fucked  _ me  _ in the ass, I thought you might at least be a little open to switching it up,” you argue.

The fuck? What kind of fucked up logic is this?

“How-“ he chokes out, not sure how to proceed. “You’re the gir-“

“Finish that sentence and I’ll punch you right here right now.”

This gives him pause and he swallows because he’s sure you’d follow through on your threat with the dead serious glare you’re leveling at him. He tries again, “I’m not gay.”

“Never said you were.”

“I’m not bi.”

“Okay, still don’t see your point.”

“The point is I’m not gay, bi, pansexual, or any combination of LGBTQ+ that may consider anal sex a form of male pleasure in any way.”

There, that should shut you up. Despite the turn of events, he’s still interested in getting you beneath him, if only to prove how much he doesn’t—you don’t— _ need  _ the experience you’re proposing.

You roll your eyes at him again, shoving him back against the bed and looming over him. “I still don’t see your point, Tsuki. There are plenty of straight men who enjoy anal, the prostate is said to give men some of the best orgasms of their lives.”

He snorts, disbelieving. He’s never heard of a single straight man enjoying something that’s been the sole area of expertise of non-straight men since men have been having sex with men.

“God, I didn’t take you for such a phobe,” you add, your head tilted as you observe him.

“I am not homophobic,” he scoffs, offended. It’s true, he’s not. More than half the guys he’s played volleyball with over the years are some form of not straight. He’d never lasted in the sport as long as he has if he had issues with anyone’s sexuality. For crying out loud, some of his closest friends, guys he holds in highest esteem, are in relationships with other men.

It’s just that  _ he’s  _ not. Interested, that is.

“Why is this so important to you?” He inquires, concern suddenly sparking in his chest. Has he somehow made you doubt him? Are you doubting yourself? 

You shrug, “It's not, just figured it’d be fun to try. I’ve read about it and it sounded hot.”

He raises an eyebrow in bemusement. A whim. Figures.

“So how would it even work since, you know, you’re dickless?” He asks, indulging you.

“Strap-on,” is your immediate and succinct reply.

He doesn’t even want to inspect how the picture that forms in his mind of you in a strap-on makes his dick twitch. 

“Fuck,” he groans, running both hands down his face. He’s feeling a little overwhelmed; this whole conversation being a lot to process.

“I’m just asking you to think about it,” you say, leaning down to rest against his chest and fidget with the collar of his shirt. “C’mon, I’ll even let you do that thing to me you’ve been wanting to try.”

He lifts his head to peek out from beneath his palms, his eyes wide. The  _ Thing _ . Holy shit. He’s been trying to talk you into it for so long he’s nearly given up hope. Just the thought of it makes him hard. 

You’re playing dirty.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you’re tone is coy and you look up at him through your lashes, eyes dark with hunger, “Try it with your fingers, I mean  _ really  _ try it, and if you seriously don’t like it then we’ll forget about it. But, if you  _ do _ then you let me fuck you.”

What. The. Fuck.

“You want me to...finger myself?” He just wants to make sure he heard you clearly.

You nod, biting your bottom lip, still watching him with that look that says you want to wreck him. He can’t stop the unintentional shiver that crawls along his spine. In a last ditch effort of persuasion, you scoot forward again, kissing him hard and dirty.

“The Thing, Tsu~ki,” you purr.

Christ, he’s not sure he could deny you anything when you’re talking in that way to him and saying his name like it’s candy in your mouth.

Before you can make another move to muddle his thoughts, he flips you over so your beneath him, the way he likes it. You squeal and giggle, your cheeks flushing. He kisses  _ you  _ this time, just as filthy as the one you gave him moments ago.

“I’ll  _ consider  _ it,” he concedes, licking into your mouth once again before pulling back.

You grin, big and bright. “That’s all I ask.”

In the meantime, over the next hour and a half, he enjoys making you hoarse as he fucks the idea of fucking him out of your head.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuki can't stop thinking about...things, and he learns that alcohol tends to loosen his tongue to the point of embarrassment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little late, but believe me, I'm earlier than one of my other wips. That one took me seven months to update.

Earworms. That’s the term that comes to him as he sits as his desk,  _ trying _ , so write the term paper due in a week that equals sixty-five percent of his grade. 

_ Earworm (n) - catchy song or tune that continually runs through a person’s mind.  _

He knows this because he’s googled the definition. 

Catchy song or tune. He gets that, but can the definition evolve to include words or phrases? Phrases such as, “I want to fuck you”?

Tsukishima tosses the highlighter he’d been fiddling with onto the open book on his desk so he can run his hands over his face and through his hair, giving the blond mop a tousle for good measure. It’s been two weeks since they had the Conversation and he can’t stop thinking about it. Despite the fact he’s insisted he isn’t interested, he can’t shake the thought, the  _ visions _ of what it might be like being pinned by you and fucked senseless, and for fuck’s sake make it stop.

He sighs. And sighs again. And once more because third time’s a charm, for what he doesn’t know, but he wishes someone would have pity on him and put him out of his misery.

He promised you he’d consider your proposition, yet he can barely think about... _ it _ ...without a full body blush descending onto him, like being dipped in too hot water and coming out steaming and bright pink. 

God, what had he been thinking?

Oh, that’s right. He  _ hadn’t _ , at least not with his primary brain. 

He glances down between his legs, glaring at his dick sitting innocently within the warmth and comfort of his sweats. It does way too much of his thinking for him since he met you.

_ What the fuck am I gonna do?  _ He wonders as he slumps back in his desk chair, swiveling lazily back and forth while his head hangs off the back of the back rest because he’s too big for everything.

Too big…

He snorts at his own immaturity, then blushes, promptly sitting up and bending over his text book lest someone walk in and finding him acting like a teenager. You know because he’s so adult now--living in his own apartment, being all independent, and dating the hottest girl he’s ever met.

Shit, he’s so gone for you it’s not even funny. In fact, he’s so fucked, he can’t stop thinking of you fcuking him.

Annnd we’re back to the earworm. Sigh.

He officially admits defeat, knowing he’s never going to get anywhere with studying until he faces this bastard down. But, he doesn’t even know where to start. He’s supposed to-to ffiiinggg...hell, he can barely even think the word, let alone commit it to practical experience.  He stares blankly at his computer until it actually dawns on him that he could use it to do a little research. 

Hesitantly, he reaches forward to bring it out of sleep mode. After entering his password he brings up Google, his fingers pausing over the keys. It’s not like he hasn’t porn searched before, he’s a guy. Much of his high school free time was spent searching out decent material to jack off to. 

It’s just that he’s never looked up  _ gay  _ porn, and the thought of those tags being burned in to his search history for the life of his laptop makes him want to cry. If he does this, there’s no turning back. His fingers twitch, still hovering over the keys as he second guesses what he’s about to do. 

_ “The Thing, Tsu~ki.” _

Oh god, those words you whispered in his ear that day rise from his subconscious, spoken in a voice laced with honey and promise, to remind him why he’s even come this far. He squirms in his seat, his cock going half mast, the thought of finally doing _ it  _ making his blood rush, the heat of the thought cascading down his spine like molten rock. It’s not just because  _ he  _ wants it, he does, he wants it  _ bad _ , but he also knows how much you’ll enjoy it, too. He’ll make sure of it, because he fucking lives to watch you come apart, your face contorting in euphoric pleasure at his hands as you come on his cock.

Fuck, he’s horny.

Okay. So he’s doing this. He’s going to watch gay porn.

He flexes his fingers once and types in:  **Gay sex** . 

He’s surprised that all that pops up are informational blurbs and articles on safe sex, a few homophobic opinion pieces, and a couple of instructional videos. It’s weird, though he doesn’t really know what he’s been expecting. 

Allowing a little bit of curiosity to trickle past his defenses, he clicks on one of the links to a blurb about proper preparation. Preparation? What was there to prep for that wasn’t emotional?

One blurb led to an article which led to another until he had sufficient knowledge that there was a lot about anal sex he had never considered. In the case of anal sex between the two of you, he’s never once thought of things such as stretching or cleaning, and if you did, you’ve never mentioned it to him. Now he finds himself thinking about all the times he’s fucked your ass, in the literal sense, and wondering if he’s been a selfish asshole about it, not that he’s hurt you or anything like that, he always takes his time. Yet, armed with all this new information, he’s determined to make sure he takes care of you next time in the proper way.

Not that this all helps  _ him _ in any way. He’s now educated on the extra effort he will have to put into this little endeavor should he actually agree to it, and none of it sounds appealing. At all.

Yes, he knows how hypocritical he sounds.

But he does, now, appreciate that you suggest he finger himself first, the activity having a two-fold result. One being that he determine if he even likes it, the other, getting used to stretching himself to take…

Yeah, well, we all know what he’d be taking. Moving on.

He considers searching videos of men fingering themselves just so he has an idea of what to expect. You know, for scientific purposes. He huffs and just bites the bullet, typing in anal fingering this time, and switching to video results. Videos of both men and women, solo and couples, populate the results page. He briefly thinks to click on a video featuring two women. It’s tempting, but it would defeat the purpose he supposes, since he’s a guy looking to finger himself.

It almost hurts to think that. 

So, with no little amount of embarrassment and a large amount of trepidation, he clicks on a random video of some dude. The window changes, loading the player, and the video starts automatically. It a four minute video of some rando kneeling on a bed, back arched as he reaches behind himself, ass facing the camera and giving the world a very clear view of a shaved asshole. Tsukishima buries his face behind a hand, curling in on himself in humiliation. 

The guy’s finger is slicked up and shiny, and he doggedly keeps his eyes on that hand and avoiding the naked balls hanging between the guy’s legs, because they’re there and it’s kinda hard--difficult--it’s difficult not to stare when they’re  _ right there _ .

It doesn’t take long until the guy has a couple fingers up his ass, his hips jerking as he fucks himself. Tsukishima can’t stop giggling behind his hand because this whole situation is stupid, and he can’t believe he’s watching this, hearing this dude moan like it’s actually good, and oh god, the guy is now face down in his sheets, pumping his cock, his hips thrusting hard as he moans and curses loudly, and Tsukishima can’t...he just can’t…

He goes to exit out quickly and accidentally clicks another video in his rush. It loads and plays before he can stop it, and oh god, please no...they’re already going at it...one guy on his back as his buddy? Lover? Pins his legs apart in the most god awful position, hammering his ass like he’s trying to punch a hole through the bottom guy...and Tsukishima can’t look away...his room fills with the deep voice of the top guy growling dirty things like, “You like my cock, huh?” and “Yeah, c’mon, wanna hear you”, and the other guy is keening all high-pitched like a girl...and geez he’s really jacking his cock...and, oh dear, top guy is grunting and jerking his hips...oh wow, that bottom guy is really shooting a load...goodness that’s a lot of cum...and...no...the top is pulling out and...is that...out of his ass…

“Hey babe, I’m home!”

And he can’t react fast enough to close out the window before you prance into the room and come to a dead stop as your eyes fall on his computer screen and widen until he’s sure your eyebrows are gonna jump off your face.

There is a pregnant pause as the last few seconds of the video play out. The silence that follows is almost as bad as when you start chuckling. Almost. Actually, scratch that, it’s nowhere near as bad, because now you’re holding onto the door jam to keep from collapsing as you guffaw and snort, your free arm holding your stomach as if your guts will fall out if you let go. All he can do is glare at you, red as a strawberry, from his little desk chair.

“Are you done now?” He deadpans once your laughter has sort of died down. It’s a good thing that he’s emotionally matured since high school, because old Tsukishima Kei would not have taken being humiliated like this. Nope.

“Baby,” you gasp between panting breaths, “Baby.” You stumble over to him, straddling his thighs. He’s not sure why he lets you, except that he really likes you, even while laughing at his expense. He loosely grips your thighs as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and plant sloppy kisses all over his face. 

“You’re so cute,” you chuckle as he pouts and avoids meeting your eyes, his pride has taken quite the hit this afternoon.

“Hm,” he replies because, what? How is he expected to react at being caught watching gay porn by his girlfriend. He’s just glad you’re not-

“Is there anything you need to tell me?” You ask, leaning back, your eyes sparkling with mischievous merriment.

“Oh fuck you,” he spits at you, glowering with his deadliest look, because he’s so done with this day, and somebody just shoot him and put him out of his misery. Of course your unfazed.

“Okay.”

His eyes widen, and he’d ask what you meant, except you’re already moving, pulling him with you toward the bed.

You then spend a good while pulling his mood around.

 

*******

 

It’s almost another week before the topic comes up again, this time brought up and out into the open, in the worst way possible, and to the worst possible person.

Tsukishima is having drinks with Kuroo and Daichi in one of the rare moments their schedules match since they graduated. They’re sharing a table in the corner of the bar they frequent, and Kuroo is leaning back in his chair, ankles curled around the legs as he tips it back, one hand in his lap and cradling a beer bottle while the other is hung nonchalantly over the back of Daichi’s seat. Daichi is slumped over the table, relaxed and resting on his elbows, fingers picking at the label of his own bottle. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, a comfortable quiet settling between them since they’ve caught up. The ambiance of the bar would be soothing, but Tsukishima is left alone with his chaotic thoughts as he observes the comfort between his two friends. Kuroo and Daichi have been dating for years, much like he and you. The trust and fondness between them is almost a physical presence even though the only interaction between Kuroo and Daichi at the moment is how Kuro softly strokes Daichi’s side with a thumb. It’s in the way they sit so close almost automatically, or the way Daichi subconsciously leans into that small gesture of affection. It’s in the way Kuroo occasionally glances at his boyfriend with a small, soft smile and so much love in his eyes.

Tsukishima wants to puke they’re so fucking adorable.

It’s been nice, though, since he doesn’t get to spend time with his older friends like he used to when they were still in school, adulthood stealing away time and burying people beneath the thumb of responsibilities. However, he’s been unable to fully relax—and it’s an old song he’s been singing recently—because he can’t stop thinking about sex, and dicks, and fingers, and this whole issue is beginning to give him nightmares.

“Is anal sex really that good?”

He’s had a few shots since arriving and he’s on his second beer, so the holes in his filter have widened, which is why the question he drops unexpectedly in the the air between them nearly causes Kuroo’s untimely death when he jerks in shock and only just saves himself from crash landing backward in his chair. Daichi stares at him, eyes impossibly wide, a deep flush of red building on the dark skin of his cheeks. They both sputter, thrown off so much by the sudden—and intrusive—question.

Tsukishima, to his credit, does realize those words actually left his mouth and buries his head in his arms on the table, mortification covering him like that unwanted uncle at a family reunion.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe that actually happened,” he whines. 

“Um, Tsukishima, why, exactly, are you asking?”

He looks up, both his senpai gazing back at him in a mixture of incredulity and embarrassment. Kuroo’s settles his chair back on all four legs, and both he and Daichi now sit slightly apart, not touching. The space between them glares at Tsukishima because he knows what he asked was intensely private, if not seriously offensive. 

He furrows his brow, lips pulling in a tight line. “I’m sorry,” he says, guilt and shame battling inside his head. “Forget I asked that very stupid question.”

“Okay,” Kuroo agrees immediately, and Tsukishima knows he’s fucked up when he’s made the Provocative Captain uncomfortable.

Daichi, on the other hand, just sighs as he observes Tsukishima, who’s now rubbing the back of his neck like he just got caught in a lie. Daichi crosses his arms, going into ‘dad mode’. 

“What’s this about, Tsukishima?”

Tsukishima inwardly curses and considers ordering another round of shots, or four.

“Dai, he said to forget it, so let’s do that, yeah? Forget it, never to remember again that I was asked about anal sex by my very straight kohai.”

Daichi doesn’t answer him, just turns his dad stare in Kuroo’s direction, causing Kuroo to duck his head while he mumbles complaints under his breath. When Daichi turns back to him, Tsukishima starts writing his eulogy in his head, because he can’t defy his former captain when he gets like this, and he knows he’s gonna die of embarrassment before the conversation ends.

“Uh…” Tsukishima tries, words failing him in this moment.

As if the universe decides to spare him anymore torture, a waiter happens by to ask if they’d like to order more drinks or any food.

They all three in unison order shots of tequila.

The silence, now, is awkward between them as they wait for their alcohol. When it’s delivered, none of them wait to cheers, slamming the shots back almost before they hit the table. The waiter leaves, tossing them all an odd look, after being dismissed with a polite refusal of more drinks.

“Okay, talk,” Daichi demands.

Well, now that the cat’s nearly out of the fucking bag, what more does Tsukishima have to lose? His pride ceased to exist the moment you spoke your deadly words.

He sighs. “You have to promise not to laugh at me,” he pouts, avoiding direct eye contact.

“I don’t even want to be having this conversation,” Kuroo helpfully replies.

Daichi jabs him in the ribs and Kuroo shouts in pain and offense. “Ignore him, Tsukishima. If it’s a legitimate question, I see no reason we shouldn’t talk about it, even if it is...uncomfortable.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kuroo huffs.

“Will you shut up if you’re not gonna be any help.”

He looks between them as they bicker. There’s no heat behind the small argument, the affection they feel toward each other hanging in the air between them. He clears his throat, nervously plucking at s scar in the worn wood of the table.

“It’s just that, [Name], may have, probably, um, told me she,” and he leans in, lowering his voice because, god if this wasn’t the most embarrassing moment of his life.

No wait. Being caught by his girlfriend watching gay porn has that spot. This is easily the second.

“Told me she wants to fuck me.” He collapses back in his chair, covering a face with his hand. How much more humiliation is he willing to endure for you?!

He looks up when he receives no answer, both Kuroo and Daichi staring at him; Kuroo barely repressing amusement, and Daichi with consideration.

Tsukishima continues, “I did some research online, but it's too impersonal, and I can’t ask questions.”

“Like what?” Daichi asks in response to his curiosity.

“Too impersonal? What kind of things were you googling?” Are the questions Kuroo throws at him, leaning forward, his eyes shining with something that makes Tsukishima’s insides squirm.

He looks between his senpai not sure who to answer, and he’s feeling cornered and vulnerable, and it’s all so much.

“Uh, about fingering and I may have watched a video,” he thinks this answers both their questions, but his attention is caught by Kuroo as he shudders.

“Any specific one?” Kuroo inquires, his voice catching.

He balks, grimacing as he spills the last of his secrets, “I may or may not have watched some gay porn.”

Kuroo makes this weird noise as Daichi covers his face, shaking his head. Then Kuroo is belting out his stupid donkey laugh, and no matter how many times Daichi punches him, the offensive noise keeps pouring out.

Tsukishima narrows his eyes, so far past the ability to be ashamed any longer. He takes a drink of his warm beer and waits for his jackass friend to get control of himself.

“Really?! You actually watched it? Oh my god, how was it?! Did you freak out?”

Tsukishima throws him an unimpressed look as Daichi sighs, resigned to let his boyfriend get it all out of his system.

“To be fair,” Tsukishima argues, “it started out as a video of a guy fingering himself, then I accidentally clicked a video of a couple fucking. And for your information, I did not freak out.” He totally did, but they didn’t have to hear that.

The expression on both their faces say they don’t believe that lie one bit.

“Why fingering?” Daichi chimes in, now ignoring Kuroo’s snorts if amusement.

Tsukishima takes a breath and exhales heavily, waving a hand and replying, “[Name] said I should try it first.”

“Hm, smart girl,” Daichi praises.

That’s debatable in Tsukishima's opinion, but he still preens at the compliment because Kuroo and Daichi adore you and, though he’d never admit it aloud to them, their approval means the world to him.

“Didn’t know [Name] was so kinky,” Kuroo teases and raises an eyebrow when Tsukishima snorts because they had no idea.

“Moving on,” Daichi interrupts, leaning back and looking at them both in disgust. Tsukishima chuckles along with Kuroo.

“Why didn’t you just google ‘pegging’?” 

Tsukishima gives Daichi a confused look. “I don’t understand?”

Kuroo shakes his head, “Ah, so innocent.” 

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “[Name] would disagree if you knew about the things I do to her.” The alcohol is really working wonders on relaxing his tongue.

Kuroo tsks, “Please let me tell you about the time I pinned Daichi’s knees beside his head-“

“Enough!” Daichi roars, drawing attention of a few patrons. He looks thoroughly done with this conversation now that it’s devolved into this. Kuroo and Tsukishima snicker, even though Tsukishima knows that he will remember that particular bit of information later and promptly wish to scrub the visual of his former captain bent in half, ass in the air, out of his head.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?!” Daichi snaps, his face lit up with mortification and he nods awkwardly at irritated customers.

“Sorry, Dai.” Kuroo leans in to plant a quick, soft kiss to his boyfriend’s temple, though he’s still grinning. Daichi shoves him off with an embarrassed glare.

“Anyway,” Daichi says, turning back to Tsukishima with exasperation, “You should probably talk to Suga, if you want to discuss this with someone. I’m not sure we’re…” he gestures between himself and Kuroo, “Qualified to give you an accurate idea of...it.”

Suga, huh?

“I didn’t know Suga was into that,” Kuroo muses, and Daichi nods his head in confirmation.

“Yeah, he gets pegged by his girlfriend almost as much as he fucks her. I would know since he likes to discuss it, in vivid detail. Constantly. Apparently it’s liberating or something.”

Well, this conversation wasn’t a total bust, Tsukishima supposes.

“By the way,” Daichi address him, interrupting his thoughts about Suga and approaching him, “It is.”

“Hm, what’s that?” Tsukishima focuses on his senpai once again.

“Anal. It is good.” 

Oh...well...glad to know…

Daichi looks over at his boyfriend sending him a heated look full of sexual tension. The atmosphere between them heats up for a moment, so palpable, Tsukishima almost scoots back his chair so he isn’t tainted by it.

Daichi bites his bottom lip and adds, “It’s so very good.”

Kuro glances at Tsukishima and smirks.

_ Oh god, please have mercy on him. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos welcome here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuki gets experimental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notice that I updated the chapter count. This just felt like it should be its own chapter. Anyway, enjoy Tsuki having a little fun on his own.

Even if Tsukishima could tell Suga took great joy in his discomfort, the conversation was, honestly, less mortifying than talking to Daichi and Kuroo. Tsukishima supposes he shouldn’t be too surprised since Suga has always had a gift with talking to people.

Tsukishima  _ was  _ surprised, however, to find out that Suga was, in fact,  _ heterosexual _ , despite his proclivity for anal sex, or as he calls it—prostate massaging. 

He had told Tsukishima that he and his current girlfriend were looking for a way to spice up their sex lives when they came across the idea of  _ pegging _ . He said that he was uncomfortable with the idea at first, too, but also curious. He said that they went slow, researching a lot, before they officially went ‘all the way’. It hadn’t been fear that made them hesitant, only a lack of experience and having no one with experience to talk to.

Tsukishima thinks that was what made the conversation less embarrassing than he would have thought. Suga was patient, answering all his questions honestly and as detailed as possible without being vulgar...mostly. This is Suga we’re talking about, and he does love provoking a response.

In the end, he stated it was mostly about what Tsukishima was willing to do, and how much his body was willing to take. Tsukishima supposes that is true, and now, armored with the information he has, he kinda just wants to get this whole thing over with.

He really just wants to do the  _ Thing _ . He can’t believe he’s willing to go this far just to fulfill one of his own fantasies.

Tsukishima tilts his head to let the hot water wash over his face. He’d like to think the heat in his face was due to the hot shower, but no, knowing what he’s about to do has raised his body temperature to abnormal levels, he’s sure of it.

He sighs.

He looks back down at the bottle in his hand, a brand of lube Suga suggested due to its consistency. He said it coats well, even in water, and doesn’t take much. His selling point is how well it helps...ease things. Tsukishima groans.

_ This is so stupid. _

He thinks back on the tips given to him by his senpai; that he should begin by masturbating as usual, getting himself really worked up and relaxed before trying. Suga had proposed cumming at least once for full relaxation, then letting his refractory period pass before working himself back up slowly.

Tsukishima doesn't know if he has the patience for all that. So far his dick doesn’t seem interested in any activity at all at the moment.

Tsukishima glares at the tile, if he doesn’t do something soon, the hot water will run out and he doesn’t think he can defile his bed quite yet. So, screwing up him determination, Tsukishima pops the cap of the line and squeezes a drop or two onto the index and middle fingers of his right hand. He rubs his thumb over the fluid, a little impressed. 

He should probably consider using it on you.

_ Okay, stop dilly dallying _ , he mentally berates himself.

Tsukishima reaches his hand down and starts by stroking his limp cock. It feels good, but he’s so nervous it’s doing nothing to get him more than a little chubby. Porn would help, but being in the shower makes it difficult to watch anything.

He gets an idea.

He keeps a small file on his phone filled with audio recordings of you getting off. They’re something you send him sporadically when feeling particularly frisky. He never knows when he’s gonna get them, he’s received them in class before, and luckily he keeps his headphones on him at all times or things might have gotten really awkward for him. But, he’s saved them all because he will listen to them when he wants to get himself worked up before  getting home. That way, he’s so hot for you by the time he walks through the door…

Let’s just say you’ve reaped the rewards of a beastly Tsukishima on multiple occasions.

Tsukishima reaches for his phone, keeping it well away from the spray of water. He quickly unlocks it and opens the hidden file. He chooses one at random, because he doesn’t have a favorite (they’re all phenomenal), and puts it on speaker phone. 

At first the only thing he hears is light panting, and he strokes himself with a light hand, listening intently and with anticipation. Before long, quiet moaning punctuate the silence of the recording, and quickly escalate. Tsukishima quickens his hand among his shaft, rubbing his palm over the head on every other upstroke.

He’s getting hard, finally, your voice singing the song that never fails to awaken his body. It’s so natural, the way you affect him. 

He groans at a particular twist of his wrist just as you keen his name through the speakers, and he suddenly wishes you were here so he could pull those sounds from you for real. As good as you sound on audio, he would rather hear you in his ear, your breath tickling his neck, hot and humid and  _ god so sexy. _

His brain supplies him with images of you from his memory as your voice rises in volume over his speakers. He thinks of you on your back, hair feathered over your pillow and eyes blown with lust as he hovers over you, watching you unravel as he rolls his hips into you. He imagines you on all fours as he pins you to the mattress, making you scream as you helplessly take his cock. He sees you above him, hips rolling in smooth circles, giving him so much pleasure both physically and visually. You’re a goddess, your body almost glowing with want and your gaze heated and hungry.

The thought makes him moan aloud, his hand picking up speed along his cock, and he tightens his grip. His other hand dips down to pull at and massage his balls.

Then his vision changes slightly, and instead of straddling him, your situated between his legs, your hips still rolling, but instead of riding him, your thrusting slow and steady.

Heat spikes in his belly, a wave spilling down his spine to end in his cock where he grips himself at the base because he nearly came then and there.

_ Interesting _ .

At least he understands now the real reason he’s standing in his shower, hard and willing to stick a finger in his ass. 

Speaking of which, he adds a little more lube to his hand, continuing to stroke himself. He’s not  _ as  _ nervous as he was, though he’s still hesitant. But taking a deep breath and trying to relax, he pumps himself a few more times, then slowly reaches between his legs and behind his balls. He rubs at his asshole, trying not to think too hard about where his finger is. He’s glad he decided to do a quick scrub around his genitals and ass before beginning this little adventure.

The sensation of his finger lightly massaging his hole is as alien as it is familiar. The only the difference is the reason  _ why  _ he’s touching himself there that makes it all strange. But, as loathe as he is to admit it, it’s not  _ bad _ , per se.

He decides to press a bit further, slipping his fingertip just past the muscle, and his breath hitches. It’s...a lot of pressure for one small digit, he’s not sure how he can handle a whole dildo. 

He pulls out and presses back in again, a little further this time. The pressure increases as he stretches around his finger, and more...uncomfortable than good. He’s really not sure what he’s supposed to get out of this, even his erection has flagged, and he feels the effort he’s putting into this really lacks reward.

Stubborn to a fault, Tsukishima presses forward until his palm rests against the underside of his ball sac. He slowly pistons his finger, gently curling it as his research suggested, looking for his prostate.

Tsukishima jolts when he rubs against a swollen spot. 

_ That was...novel… _

He tries it again and hisses sharply, his cock twitching, but not yet swelling. It’s not a  _ good  _ sensation in the traditional sense, just more...intense.

He keeps at it despite the odd angle and his cramping wrist. However, he uses his free hand to take hold of his limp cock, stroking over it and letting the water work as lube. Immediately he moans, the combination of both pressing against his prostate and jacking his cock blending together in a breathtaking new experience. 

Tsukishima lifts a leg to rest on his stool, spreading his legs a bit more, while leaning back against the wall for support. It’s mildly embarrassing and he wouldn’t want you to see him like this, but he has to admit, it’s feeling pretty good.

He’s getting close to his orgasm, he can feel it building. He eases in another finger before he comes, because he remembers stretching will be important when you fuck him. He falters, the light burn of the stretch making him pause, but he is spurred on by thoughts of you in a strap-on. God, something about that just  _ does  _ something for him.

Tsukishima is not a loud person by nature, and even sex has never garnered more than low moans and grunts from him. But it’s different having something inside you, the feeling is different, so his reactions are different. His mouth drops open on a loud moan as he presses a little harder against his prostate and adding pressure on the upstroke of his cock. He thumbs at the head, his hand speeding up.

He feels himself clenching around his fingers as he spreads them along his inner walls, brushing against his prostate. He’d like to keep going, but there’s no way. His whole body feels wound tight as a spring, his legs shaking with the effort of holding himself up and the pleasure making him tingle and throb. 

He briefly imagines you, again, between his legs and fucking into him, your breasts bouncing as you heave yourself over him, sweat dripping down your forehead and neck, and slipping into your cleavage. And that thought does it, sending him crashing over the edge with you name spilling from his lips.

He fucks himself through his orgasm, spilling cum in bucketfuls. Seriously, he’s never cum so much in his life. By the time he he’s finished, coming down from the blissful high, he feels completely wrung dry, milked of every last drop.

Tsukishima sinks to the floor, finally noticing how cold the water has become, though he doesn’t mind because it feels good against his heated skin. He’s still heaving lungfuls of air, but he feels more satiated than he’s ever felt in his life.

Eventually he gets around to cleaning himself off, finally drying and dressing. You’re still not home, so he sets about making dinner for when you do arrive.

You both have a lot to talk about tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos, if you please.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsuki does the deed...or, technically, has the deed done to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I had to post this. I couldn't have this hanging over my head. I have so many wips, I just really need to get through them. Anyway, the conclusion. Hope you like it.

Tsukishima is actually quite surprised how well the conversation had gone. It had been embarrassing at first, he’d stuttered his way through admitting his curiosity, though he’d die before owning up to having any sort of nervous stutter.

After he managed to get past that, everything else flowed easily enough. You two talked about expectations, concerns, best practice, and anything else each of you could think of regarding this impending sexual endeavor. And by the time you went to bed, you had a tentative plan of execution.

Tsukishima has to admit that he was sort of excited. He was nervous, maybe a little unsure of how this may change the dynamic of your relationship, but mostly he was looking forward to it. Especially if the results resemble his solo act.

So, the plan is to wait until he has a day off and attempt it the night before. According to you, he will be sore the following day and will need the time off to recover. It sounds like he’s having a procedure done, which is not a sexy thought, so he tries not to think too hard about it.

Yet, he does find himself getting a chub each time he thinks about what is going to happen. He hasn’t fingered himself since his shower escapade, not that he hasn’t wanted to. During the conversation that followed, you interrogated him, digging every detail from him about his experience. He hadn’t been sure if you were just curious or gathering data, but the heavy-lidded gaze pinned on him as he talked made him think you liked what he had to say. 

Anyway, in addition to having chosen which evening this will take place, choosing the strap-on was essential. He would have been content to let you pick it out, but you had insisted at least browsing online together. You wanted to make sure you didn’t pick something for him that would be too intimidating.

A few nights after you talked about this, the two of you sat down together, lazily browsing through the various toy sites. It was not only informative, but also really, really hot.

It didn’t take long before your questions about his preferences devolved into dirty talk as you spoke into his ear with a low voice laced with lust. You had him panting and trembling with want as you pinned him to the back of the couch, kneeling between his legs, and sucking at his neck and ears. Your hands were all over him as he submitted to you, allowing you to take the lead. There  _ was  _ a sense of freedom that came with being the receiver, of being taken care of in a way he’s never felt before, and it multiplied the anticipation he was feeling at completely giving you control.

By the time you sunk to your knees he was willing to beg you to take him, wrecked by your words and the pictures they painted of you gripping his hips tight in your small, strong hands as you fill him up.

It didn’t take long for him to come once you sucked him into the wet heat of your mouth, gripping the back of your head with one hand as he fucked between your lips with slow thrusts. And when he was done, gazing at you through heavy eyes while he caught his breath, you whined at him with tears still in your eyes, come shining on your swollen lips, and your hips wiggling in need.

He was more than happy to repay you for making him feel so good, so he stripped your pants from your legs and spread you wide, pouring all his gratefulness into his tongue as he bent you in half and made you scream.

****

*******

****

Tsukishima stood in front of the mirror, the fingers of one hand tapping an irregular beat on the counter. 

He is nervous.

He glances at himself in the mirror, flinching at the deep flush that covers his face and chest. He thought he was done feeling like a scared virgin, but it seems his body refuses to catch up with his brain. His heart is pounding behind his ribs and his stomach is in knots. He can’t keep his hands still. 

He squeezes his hands into fists, trying to shake off some of the fear he’s feeling, taking a slow deep breath and holding it for a count of three before letting it out through his nose. It helps for only a second before the weight of what’s about to happen settles over him and the dark cloud of nerves descend again. He doesn’t want to feel this way, he’d prefer the heat of desire instead, but now that it’s about to happen, Tsukishima is starting to second guess his decision.

Everything is ready to go. You came home a few days before holding a hot pink bag with a winking cat on it. He could only assume it was the strap-on, though you refused to show him. You made him swear he wouldn’t look at it before tonight, and he hadn’t. However, the thought of it sitting in the closet and just waiting to be used kept him semi-hard for two days. Every time he even looked at the closet, his cock twitched in anticipation.

But that was then, and up until this moment, he’s been looking forward to this. Now he stalls in the bathroom, hesitation keeping him locked within while you waited for him to join you in the bedroom.

Earlier, you had disappeared into the bathroom, leaving him alone for an hour before you emerged again, giving him a brief and teasing glimpse of what you had been doing. Apparently, you dolled yourself up for the event, which made him chuckle because he never went to extremes to look good when he fucked you.

But he supposes this was a sort of first time for you both, so of course you would want it to be special. He smiles again, thinking of how you hollered at him to stay out until he’s had a shower. He could hear you moving about behind the closed door as he made his way into the bathroom.

Now he’s done, having cleaned himself thoroughly, and he’s unsure he’s ready for this.

Scratch that, he knows he’s not ready.

The thought of being pinned to the mattress by you had fueled his fantasies for the last several weeks, but now that it’s happening, he...he just can’t. That’s the thing about fantasies, though, they’re almost always better as just that; fantasies.

Right now, he’s pretty sure that’s all that made this whole thing as hot as it’s been. It’s also been long enough since he fingered himself he’s certain that he’d exaggerated how good it was. Yeah, he’s gotten off in it, but he knows if it hadn’t been for the thoughts of you, then he wouldn’t have found fingering himself so satisfying.

Tsukishima gives himself another look in the mirror, nodding his head in determination as he makes a final decision. As disappointed as you may be, he can’t do this. He’s gonna have to let you down, and while he hates himself for doing it, he knows you won’t want to do anything he’s not 100% sure of.

Steeling himself for the dissatisfaction that will inevitably cloud your expression, Tsukishima wraps a towel around himself and steps out of the bathroom. He heads down the short hall, stopping before the closed door to take a breath. He tentatively knocks.

“Shit,” he hears before, “Wait one sec...okay! Come in.”

He can’t help but grin, though it doesn’t last. He doesn’t like disappointing you in anything, especially when you’re so obviously excited. A ball of dread sits in his stomach as he slowly opens the door, his excuse on his tongue, but he snorts the moment the room catches his eye, candles burning in every corner and rose petals sprinkled all over the floor.

When the hell did you even have time to buy all this shit? And how did you manage to sneak it past him without his seeing any of it?

He’s about to ask what the fuck you were thinking. However, he forgets what he’s about to say...hell, he forgets to fucking _breathe_ , as his eyes land on you.

You lounge on the bed in a silk (is that really  _ silk _ ?!) robe, pillows piled up behind you. The robe hangs open, exposing your supple curves and soft skin. You’ve piled your hair atop your head in an artful manner, your face painted subtlety with makeup, only enhancing your already perfect features. But...but it’s the purple harness and pink dildo that draw his eyes, causing him to choke as he tries to swallow with a dry mouth and a tongue that feels heavy.

He’s walked in with the intent to dissuade you from this, now, as he stands in the doorway, pinned by your hungry gaze, all he wants is to climb on top of you and fuck himself silly on your cock. Is he really that easy?

You smirk at him, obviously pleased with his reaction to you, and all the blood in his system rushes between his legs, lifting the towel around his waist into a small tent. Your smirk gets bigger as your eyes grow heavy with want.

Is he easy? When it comes to you, you better goddamn believe it.

You roll to your knees, your pink—literal pink—cock stiff and bouncing between your legs. He can’t take his eyes off of it, though his body seems to move of its own accord as you crook your finger at him. When he reaches you, you raise up to kiss him gently, releasing the towel at the same time, allowing it to pool around his feet in the carpet.

The nervousness has returned, but beneath it, his heart beats with a bit of excitement. The dildo nudges his stiff erection, causing his breath to catch. He exhales roughly. You smile up at him, soft and affectionate.

“Thought you were gonna stand me up,” you say, your voice quiet, a little hesitant. 

“I almost did.” He doesn’t feel the need to lie.

You gaze into each others’ eyes, yours searching his for any sign of doubt. “What changed your mind?”

He watches you watching him and chews his lip. The reason is embarrassing and makes him feel vulnerable, but not exactly in a bad way. At least not completely.

Tsukishima shrugs with the barest lift of his shoulders. “You look sexy wearing that thing.”

“Ah,” is all you reply, your lips twitching as you try not to grin. The light in your eyes is teasing, but warm. He chooses to ignore your mockery, sliding his arms around you so he can grip your plush ass. He pulls you closer, prying open your mouth with his tongue and diving deep, as he grinds himself against your cock. You gasp, and the whole situation sends fire down his spine to collect at the base, the heat spilling into his groin and making him even harder.

You break away, leaving him panting so you can watch as his dick slides against yours. “Shit baby,” you whimper, and he has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t humiliate himself by answering you with one of his own. “You look so good grinding me.”

Well, so much for control. A quiet moan escapes his lips, and your eyes dart up, locking on his expression. You look feral, ready to devour him, and he shivers with so much need for you.

You look back down, taking one hand and wrapping the smaller digits around both your cocks. He watches you, your tiny hand barely able to reach around both, and it shouldn’t feel as good as it does, the grip is too light though he knows your squeezing with what strength you have. He guesses that it’s just that it’s  _ your  _ hand that is making him tremble from the feel of warm flesh and silicone.

You look up and kiss him again, and it’s sloppy and desperate. He’s feeling so damn needy right now, and he doesn’t know where it’s all coming from.

You pull away, your soft lips barely brushing his as you both roll into one another. “I want you so bad, Kei. I wanna make you feel so good.”

He cries out, softly, gripping your ass just a little harder and canting his hips a little faster. If you keep going he’s going to blow his load right here. His balls tighten as his orgasm rushes toward him. He quickly grasps your wrist, jerking back and gritting his teeth.

You’re gazing at him with one eyebrow raised and your lips tilted in a smug grin. “Already?” You tease.

He sighs. You’re such an  _ asshole _ .

“How do you want me?” He asks, ignoring your jab.

Hesitancy clouds your eyes and you nibble your bottom lip, the confidence you had slipping under uncertainty. “Um, you can just lay on your back.”

He decides not to exacerbate the awkwardness with snarky comments. He moves past you to climb onto the bed, easing himself backward until he’s resting against the pillows you had laid out. He gets comfortable, then looks up at you. You’re looking back, eyes roaming over his long frame, and it’s been a while since he felt so... _ naked _ before you.

“God Kei,” you whisper, the tone full of awe, “You’re so gorgeous.” 

He scoffs, his face heating up as you finally move, spreading his thighs so you can settle between them. It takes everything he has not to cover up his junk. 

He’s a grown ass man who’s done some kinky shit before and he has no damn reason to get all fucking shy. No matter if his sexy girlfriend is sitting between his legs with a pink cock between hers. None of that matters. Not one bit.

He’s kinda embarrassed.

But it only lasts for a second, because you bend over, latching onto his jaw and moving slowly down to his neck, then chest. You trail your tongue down the plane of his stomach, only a hint of the six-pack left since he quit playing volleyball to focus on graduate school.

You’ve done all this before, but tonight it feels so different, so much more intimate. Every wet drag of your tongue leaves a trail of fire in its wake. Your nails scratch electric shivers down his sides. Every nip of your teeth has his breath catching.

You kiss him all over, taking your time in a way you’ve never done before and it leaves him breathless. It’s so... _ different _ , the way it feels now. It’s weird but he feels sexier than ever. He almost feels like he’s being...worshipped.

The thought makes him flush with desire and embarrassment all at once. He sits up, grabbing your face and kisses you hungrily, shuttling up an inner voice telling him he’s supposed to be manlier than this. His alpha instincts, if that’s what you wanna call it, are howling in revolt. He should be taking the lead, not submitting like a virgin woman.

But there’s a deeper sense of satisfaction with giving up control of his body. 

You separate, panting, your face beautiful with a pink flush highlighting your cheeks. You grin at him and slip out of his hands, diving down to swallow him in one go. He falls back into the pillows with a gasping moan, hips twitching with the need to thrust. His head tilts back, eyes closing, as he’s assaulted by your mouth. He’s always loved how you suck him.

You shift from your position, the sound of a bottle cap being unlatched filling the room along with his quiet pants. You lift off him, leaving him wet and cold, and his breath hitches. He whines...but just a little.

Then there is the hesitant pressure of a small fingertip pressing between his butt cheeks and he flinches, which causes you to jump. The result is a sudden pressure in the wrong place that shoots a sharp pain up through his ass.

“Ow! Holy fuck!” He shouts, closing his legs quickly and gritting his teeth.

“Oh, shit, Kei! I’m so sorry!” You apologize. You try to get closer, but he stops you with knees pressed against your chest and an upheld hand.

“What the hell did you do?!” He snaps. His ass is throbbing, and not in a way he remembers feeling good.

“It was an accident!”

“Well be more careful, dammit, or you won’t be getting any further!”

“Don’t yell at me! You startled me, I didn’t mean to!”

He rises onto his elbows to look at you. You’re sitting back, giving him space, but you’re pouting, your bottom lip jutting out and trembling slightly. He locks eyes with you, and you look sincerely regretful for hurting him, and he can’t bring himself to stay upset.

But damn, that had  _ hurt _ .

Tsukishima sighs. He tries to compose himself, though much of the mood has disintegrated after the debacle. Still, he doesn’t  _ want  _ to give up just yet. He wants to recapture the feeling of being something so cherished. It was an addicting feeling and he’s not ready to let it go. But, he’s wary about letting your pokey little fingers anywhere near his tender asshole.

“Do you...would you like to stop? We don’t have to keep trying if you don’t want.”

He looks at you again, your genuine offer showing itself on your face. You look more concerned and worried, rather than disappointed. That alone convinced him it’s okay to continue. 

“No, we can keep going,” he says, and the last of his nervousness washes away under the glow of happiness in your eyes. “Just, let me show you what to do.”

You nod enthusiastically as he relaxes back into the pillows again. “Would you hand me the lube?”

You snatch it up and hand it to him, and he can see how nervous you are by the way your hand trembles. Something about knowing your just as nervous as he is is comforting.

“I’m nervous, too,” he reassures. You smile at him and take a deep breath.

“Yeah,” you say.

He slicks up a few fingers under your intense gaze. He can’t look at you as he slides his hand between his legs and past his balls. This position is much easier than standing in the shower, his reach is further and he doesn’t have to strain his hand. He starts with his middle finger, sucking in a sharp breath as he pushes past the rim. There is a slight pain, leftover from a moment before, but it quickly disappears as he’s more familiar with his own body.

“Oh god,” he hears you gasp, and he shoots you a quick look, his cheeks darkening. You’re staring right between his legs with a look of utter awe, your jaw slack. His cock jumps, you’re looking at him like...like he’s so fucking perfect. His eyes slide toward your hands sitting on your lap. You’ve balled them into little fists, and he watches as they clench every time he thrusts his finger into himself.

Once he’s loose enough he curls his finger, reaching for that special spot that made his toes curl. He bumps it and the pleasure he feels ramps up to one hundred percent, his thighs twitching as he struggles not to curl into himself. He gasps, then keens, his eyes locked on your hands until he hears you suck in a sharp breath.

His eyes trail up your body, your breast rising and falling with heaving breaths, and he pauses when he comes to your face. You looked  _ wrecked _ . He’s  _ never  _ seen you look so desperate—so  _ animalistic _ —as he is seeing you now, which is saying a lot because he’s made you cry from being so fucked out on his cock before. It’s almost spiritual.

He grinds his hips into his hand, groaning, and he’s so turned on but  _ barely _ even hard _.  _ When you look up at him, your eyes are black as pitch. 

“Kei,” you moan, his name dripping from your lips like some succubus bent on feeding on him. God does he want you to.

“[Name]...” he whines, his head tilting back as he curls his finger again.

You shift. “Kei...please...can I?” 

He opens his eyes to see you’ve crawled closer, your hands hovering as you hesitate to touch him. And that is ridiculous, there is never a time where he  _ doesn’t  _ want your hands in his body.

He nods rapidly, unable to speak, and he moans loud when your cool hands gently touch down on his thighs, sliding up toward his groin. He starts to harden feeling you draw closer to him. He watches as you drag your eyes from the sight of him pumping his finger in and out of himself, leaning up to kiss him, slow and deep, with long strokes of your tongue. When you pull back he grabs for you, frantically trying to keep you close.

“I’m here baby,” you whisper into his cheek, “You’re so beautiful, Kei.”

He buries his head in your neck and sighs. One of your hands travel down his arm, your finger circling his rim with gentle movements. You lean back to gaze at him with a questioning look, and this time he forces himself to relax as he whispers, “Yeah.”

You push in, and it’s smoother this time. You pull out almost immediately, sitting back on your heels and grabbing the lube. You smile softly at him as you drip some onto your fingers, then toss the bottle aside. You grip his knee with one hand, and he spreads wider for you as you stretch your lubed-covered finger toward his hole. He clenches around his fingers in anticipation, then you’re trailing that soft tip around the rim again. A moment later you’re pushing inward, your finger gliding in alongside his own. There is a bit of burn with the added finger, but it’s not too uncomfortable, and nothing like the pain before.

He continues to thrust his finger, but you hold still, staring again in awe at how your finger disappears inside him.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, entranced. He chuckles.

“You can move it if you want,” he replies in a low voice. The words are barely out of his mouth before he feels you pumping your finger in him. The sensation is intense, and the knowledge that your inside him makes a wave of heat wash over him. 

“You’re so tight,” you say, almost like your talking to yourself, but he groans anyway because that sounded so fucking hot.

“Shit, [Name],” he cries, rolling hips a little harder. “Fuck, you-you feel my finger?” He stutters, having a hard time keeping his eyes open. It’s starting to feel real good now, like it did in the shower.

You nod. He slips his finger back to give you room. “Here, feel that bump?” He asks. You fumble, curling your finger in random directions for a second, but then he arches his back, your fingertip pressing it full on. “Yea-yeah! There!”

You make this high, whining sound, and he forces open his eyes to look at you. He’s trembling like an epileptic as you assault his prostate with enthusiasm, watching the way his hips ride your finger roughly.

“Fu-fuck!” He shouts, he’s gonna come if you keep on. “[Name], please, now. Fuck me, now.”

You freeze, your eyes slowly traveling up his body to stop when you lock eyes with him. If it’s possible for eyes to become a demonic black, yours sure do as you surge forward with a growl, attacking his mouth. You continue to fuck him with a finger, slipping in another as his slips out. You ease up on his prostate, focusing on stretching him.

“Hold on, baby, don’t come yet.”

He’s not sure if he can do that, but he’ll die trying if it means he finally gets you inside him. You squeeze in another finger, and the burn makes him hiss. You pause to gauge his reaction.

“Okay?”

He nods with a shuddering breath but chokes on it as you start stretching him again, this time with three fingers deep inside him. He grips the pillows under his head, his mouth falling open to moan uninhibited. He’ll remember this later, probably die of shame, but right now all he wants is for you to stick that fucking dildo in his ass so he can finally come.

[Name], now! Fuck. Me. Now!” He demands, panting hard with effort not to allow his orgasm to take him.

You chuckle, “So needy.”

He glares at you. But you pull your fingers out, leaving him oddly empty. You sit back again and grab the bottle of lube, pouring some into your palm. Then your slathering it over your pink cock, and he’s almost drooling as he watches you stroke the thing that’s gonna be shoved inside him in a few minutes.

When you’re satisfied that your sufficiently slick, you wipe the excess in the sheets, and lean over him with your weight on one hand. He remembers to put a pillow under his hips, and you watch as he does so.

Then your lining yourself up and pushing inside him.

It’s...it’s  _ a lot _ . More pressure than he’d been expecting, and he squeezes his eye shut. He can’t breathe, the pressure in his ass making it hard to suck in air. He tenses up which doesn’t help the discomfort.

“Kei,” you coo, rubbing at his arms and caressing the sides of his face, “Kei, baby, breathe.”

He gasps, “Are you in?”

You shift, and shake your head. “No, only just past the crown.”

Damn. He isn’t sure how much more he can take.

“It’s...so much…” he huffs, panting. A second later he is gripping your shoulders, moaning as your hand strokes his limp length. You pistons your hips slow and easy, but the hand on his rapidly filling cock is distracting from the discomfort of his asshole.

“That’s it, baby,” you purr at him, “You can take it. You’re so good for me.”

Oh god...if he wasn’t feeling so many things at the moment, he would have glared at you. What an embarrassing thing to have to hear. Why did it make him leak precum like a dripping faucet?!

After a few minutes you still, and he’s able to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling like he’s run a mile as fast as he can. His skin is covered in goosebumps as the sweat beading on his chest and arms cools. The scent of flower petals, candle wax, and your perfume is clouding his head, and he feels drunk and drugged, his body buzzing like one raw nerve. He can barely process the sensation of you planting sweet, closed-mouth kisses along his lower jaw. Your fingers caress his arms and shoulders as you lavish him in love and affectionate touches. 

He feels so...open right now; utterly and inexorably vulnerable. Completely at your mercy, and totally trusting you to care for him. Is this how you feel? When he presses you into the mattress, enters you, and feeds on your lust, do you ever feel so... _ unguarded _ ?

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing you on your eyelids, your cheeks, your nose. He kisses you again, need finally beginning to rise like a tide within him. “Please move.”

You don’t answer him, you just keep close, your forehead resting just beneath his chin when you roll your hips.

Oh...fuck.

All the emotionally charged atmosphere dissipates as lust fills in the spaces, taking over and heating the air between you. You take it easy at first, like you were just moments ago. You twist your hips, and he can tell you’re searching for that spot that made him squirm. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you pull at his legs, wordlessly asking him to curl them around your waist.

The change in position cause you to tilt your hips just right, and his back comes off the bed in a sharp arch. It’s different than fingers, he feels you everywhere within him. Between the fullness and the way your cock rubs against his prostate, he is feeling overwhelmed with sensation.

“Harder,” he groans, though he’s not even paying attention to the words he’s saying. He just feels so good, and you look so good leaning over him, giving him everything.

You snap your hips and he cries out, rolling his own back as you thrust into him. There is a tiny bit of pain, but it only increases the pleasure. You push up onto your hands, and he wants to cry out for you to stay near him, but you’re looking at him in awe.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” you say, your voice a little high-pitched from excitement.

“R-really, now?!” He retorts, trying to sound exasperated, but mostly succeeding in sounding breathless and fucked out. 

You chuckle, but otherwise continue to drive yourself inside of him. Talking becomes a moot point since you’re concentrating hard on pleasing him and he’s busy feeling like he’s going to die. If he was more coherent, he might have wondered how sex can still surprise him, how versatile pleasure can be. 

You’ve ridden him to kingdom come before, made him come so hard he thought he was gonna implode. But this...this is addicting. It’s intense, and good in a way he would never have expected, nor cared to find out if it hadn’t been for your curiosity. He hates how you were right all along.

Again, you pause and change positions, sitting back on your heels. Your small hands slide back along his thighs and stop just behind his knees, then your pushing them up, curling him in on himself, his legs spread wider than ever. He grips the pillow under his head, his fists clenching tightly to the puffy fabric. You roll your hips, and this new position gets deeper and presses harder against his prostate.

It also allows you free access to his cock.

“HOLY SHIT!”

He’s not gonna last. You smirk knowingly, trying to time your strokes with your thrusts, but that kinda multitasking is probably expert level. You’re out of sync, which isn’t bad, but it’s not good. It all feels good, but leaves him on edge, feeling like he’s gonna come and getting no satisfaction of a release.

He’s getting desperate, meeting you thrust for thrust, and he ends up slapping away your hand to do it himself. Instead of matching your pace, he jacks himself fast and hard. 

“[Name]!” He moans, loud and vulgar. “C’mon,  _ fuck _ me!”

You’re breathing heavy from exertion, but you giggle. “Sure thing, baby.” 

You grip the backs of his thighs and throw yourself into it, hammering his ass. He arches again, his orgasm building rapidly now that he’s stroking his cock.

“Does it feel good?” You ask, panting.

“Ngh...f-fuck yeah!”

“Yeah, baby. You feel so good, Kei. I wanna make you feel so good.”

“Don’t sto-RIGHT THERE!” He yells. Heat washes over him and coils low in his belly. His balls are so tight they ache. He twists his wrist and his orgasm slams into him, the intensity of it a thousand times more potent than what he experienced in the shower on his own.

“YES YES...GODSHITFUCK!”

He comes then, his mouth dropping open with a wordless scream. Drool trickles down the side of his mouth and his eyes roll back into his head. His back arches so high he’s afraid he’ll pull a muscle.

“Yeah, sweetie, there you go. Come for me, Kei,” you moan, continuing to fuck him through his orgasm, slowing your thrusts until you're rolling your hips in slow, deep waves.

Like in the shower, Tsukishima comes, and comes, and comes. It literally shoots from him, covering not only his hand, but his stomach, chest, and neck. He may or may not have felt some splatter into his cheek. When he finally squeezes out the last of it, he whines, trying to wiggle away from you, feeling severely oversensitive. Luckily, you get the point and stop moving, pulling out slowly and leaving him gaping open.

He relaxes back into the bed, a limp noodle of a human, barely able to keep his eyes open. How is that an orgasm from anal sex can be as good as it is? If someone were to break in and murder him right now, he would die happily without argument.

“Oh. My. God.” You say, and it takes effort to roll his head to the side to look at you.

“Hm…?” He asks, only half interested in anything that is happening outside of his physical body. His soul is still floating in the ether of sexual bliss.

“That...WAS AWESOME!” You yell like a child just coming off their first roller coaster.

He flinches and slurs, “Dammit, [Name], calm down.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry,” you whisper, curling up next to him and giggling. He rolls his eyes, then closes them. He’s ready for a nap.

“Next time you have to ride me.”

He snorts. “It’s my turn next time,” he says with a yawn. He’s finally coming back to himself, and he stretches, wincing at the full throb if soreness in his ass. He’s glad you suggested he have a day off following this.

“Oh, ye~ah,” you muse, “That’s right. Your roleplay fantasy threesome.” You sigh and shift your body until you’re lying in your back. “You and your dinosaurs.”

He smacks your thigh, but the action lacks any force because he still feels like wet pasta. “It’ll be totally worth it.”

“You’ll be hard pressed to beat this,” You challenge.

And the fact is, he knows it. But, the fun will be in trying.

Tsukishima grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me on this little adventure. I hope you enjoyed yourself. Please leave a comment or kudos if you did, it's a nice gesture, and it makes me feel all fluffy and loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos fuel the fire. Keep 'em coming folks.
> 
> Oh, and there will be a Terushima version of the one...can't remember the title.


End file.
